This First Person article is the experience of Kristin Matte, who lives in Boucherville, Que. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
Swampy. That’s the best way to explain the state of my bathroom the first few weeks after my roommate moved in. I couldn’t figure out why the bathroom floor was always wet. And not just a little wet, but puddle wet.
It eventually dawned on me to ask my teenage roommate if she used the bath mat when she took a shower.
“What’s a bath mat?” she asked.
“Come and see,” I said, as we headed to the bathroom. I picked up the bath mat and placed it on the floor by the shower. I stand on it.
“This way, when I’m still wet from the shower, it absorbs some of the water.”
“Oh! I didn’t know that,” she said.
“That explains all the water on the floor,” I laughed.
When you rent to teenagers as a 40-something person, you sometimes cross the line into an odd quasi-teacher role. A Gandalf to Frodo Baggins. An Obi-wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker. Dumbledore to Harry Potter. But less “old guy” and more likely to giggle and discuss systemic oppressions.
Sometimes we talk about the little things, like emptying the dryer lint from the dryer. Other times things are a little more serious, like explaining they have to do their tax return now that they are over 18.
Like many people my age, I was unable to buy a house or condo on my own. I did, however, buy a duplex with my mother in 2018. The sale of her previous house helped with the down payment of the duplex and the remaining mortgage is in my name.
We were lucky to buy it before the pandemic. Interest rates were low and my new unionized job as an administrator with the federal government meant I had some job security for the first time in my life.
However, I realized quickly that home ownership is a lot. A lot of bills. A lot of surprises. A lot of stress. Each home a unique onion ready to be peeled.
One of our surprises was a crawl space full of garbage. A cornucopia of finds: paint cans from the 1970s, countless old pipes and, to our horror once emptied, rats. They may be gone now, but they have left a mark. Whenever my mom calls me with a serious tone I brace myself for another $1,000 problem.
It became clear by 2021 that a roommate could help me reduce my debt. My apartment is comfortable at 1,200 square feet and I had a guest room that sat empty 99 percent of the time, so I decided to rent it out.
The room was already furnished so I thought a student might appreciate it. They could move in with just a bag of clothes. My renter would have a good-sized bedroom, furnished with a double bed and all the necessary furniture. We’d share the kitchen, bathroom and two living spaces. Everything was included. They don’t buy anything other than their food.
My ad explained I worked from home and had a pug, and my mom lived downstairs. The prospective roommate had to be cool with dogs and moms. I also made it clear applicants couldn’t be homophobic, transphobic or racist, as I am part of a 2SLGBTQ+ community and have queer family and friends.
I was flexible on rent. I was cognizant that some students have financial support from their families and some don’t. The rent was $450 monthly and I didn’t lock anyone into a year-long contract in case they ran into financial difficulties. I’d have gladly accepted less rent if someone who loved cleaning wanted that option, but alas, no such luck.
Within a few days, my first roommate moved in. She was 18 and left home because she didn’t get along with her mom’s new boyfriend. She stayed with me for about a year. She kept her distance. She eventually left for a job opportunity up north.
In October 2021, I was hospitalized with acute necrotizing pancreatitis. I was in the hospital for four months. Got pneumonia and gastroparesis. I required surgery. This was on top of the COVID lockdowns, so I was isolated for weeks. I was eventually sent home with a feeding tube and lots of healing to do.
After that, my second ad was a little more descriptive. I now work from home full-time because I’m disabled. I needed someone who was out and about and would give me space during the day. The importance of vaccines and COVID safety was also top of mind. I wasn’t in the best shape, so I needed someone who respected that.
My second roommate, Madison, was also 18. She was working and wanted to go back to school. Soon, her younger sibling, who was also a teenager, started staying over.
Madison eventually left to move in with an older boyfriend, something I told her worried me. If I rented the room to someone else, she wouldn’t be able to come back.
In a sort of in-between solution, she paid rent for a while to keep the room as a safety net. Overall she rented from me for about two years. Recently, she gave up the room and her younger sibling now rents it.
I now understand the clichés older generations say to the ones who come after them. There is a desire to compare, and a frustration with things we don’t identify with or understand.
It can be difficult to watch them make choices that make me cringe. I’ll only give my opinion if asked for it. But it’s hard.
I was 18 once. What did I put up with from my first boyfriend? What red flags do I now see from a mile away? What hard lessons do I wish they didn’t have to learn?
There are hiccups, of course. One roommate would get sauce on my ceiling or walls every time she cooked. One would smoke a lot of pot. I worried about the impact smoking might have on their developing brain. I find it difficult not to intervene when their bedrooms become a chaotic dump. I’ve since had to set limits regarding food and garbage in their rooms. I don’t like having to police them.
But there are also wonderful things about having younger roommates. The last few years have been hard on me. My hospital stay was long and excruciating. It made me want to curl up and keep my life small. Being around people who still get excited and make big plans reminds me I’m not dead yet.
My current roommate is sweet and I have to make sure my dog doesn’t bully them for treats. We’re still getting to know one another. That takes time. Small things open doors, like our shared love of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I saw the movies in the theatre before they were born — that doesn’t seem plausible, but the math doesn’t lie.
I initially sought a roommate to help me pay down debt. At the time, I didn’t realise a pandemic, my hospitalization, the resulting disability and economic inflation were all around the corner. Now, I don’t know how I’d get by without my roommate’s rent.
I don’t expect these kids to keep in touch with me when they leave and move on with their lives, but I’ve become fond of them. If eventually they look back and see that I was just doing my best and that I meant well, that’s enough.
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